


baby, you're trippin'

by orphan_account



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Demons, Dwarves, Gen, Magical Realism, Magicians, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: an excerpt from “Four Enchanted People: A Character Study by Helianthus Moros”00fftober day 07: enchanted





	baby, you're trippin'

**Author's Note:**

> hiya, its ely again!!
> 
> this one was a tad bit rushed in the editing department but i just wanted to post this already!!
> 
> enjoyyyy!!

**Definition of Terms**

**Mind Magic** . It pertains to the art of of mind centered magic where the magician can control the person's actions and memories. It is a series of spells chanted one after the other until the command is done. Mind Magic, in this study, is done for an hour at most. This is because the magician’s capacity only holds out for an hour.

**Enchanted** . ( _ Adjective _ ) Used to describe a person controlled by mind magic. The state of visions the victim experiences under the magician's hold. Victims cite different experiences and visions when enchanted. 

  
  


**The Study**

**Subject 1: Lazarus Crass ** ** [1] **

Lazarus invited me into his house. He asked for pardon about the mess of fruits and plates on the floor. It was the dog he said. I nod but I did not know of any dogs that fit inside a dwarf's house. But I let it slide. Let it settle on the bottom of my stomach like a rock. He asked me where I want to do it, I told him the place most comfortable for him. He noded, stared off into space for a second, flinching at the sight of a dark closet. He blinked out of his stupor, languidly. He gestured towards the study. I asked him why he didn't pick his room. He said it was too pink. As we passed it in the hall, I was inclined to agree. It was too pink.

I dragged the seats of the study so that it would be faced towards one another with minimal distance. The chair screeched against the floor and Lazarus instinctively covered his pointed ears. I smiled at him as sorry but he was still shaking. I made my way towards him and he flinched. I did not know what to do, in truth. I have never faced a situation like that. But he steeled himself, pricked himself with his nail, and he stopped shaking. It was barbaric I thought, his way of composing himself but based on my current readings, it was a common way of exiting fear from your body for dwarf warriors.

He made his way to his seat and I finally sat on mine. I started the ritual shortly after.

He froze, instantly, but his eyes closed, softly. (A thing to note, I did not tell my subjects to close their eyes. It seems like it's an automatic response). And it was null for some time, a long time. He was still and has not given the signal yet so I continue. And then it changed. He did not flinch, nor did his eyes open but he smiled. He smiled, a small one, a soft one, but it was still a smile. It felt jarring to see the fourteen-year-old smile. But I let it be. An hour breezed over like the wind and the ritual was over. His stoic expression came back and his eyes fluttered open.

I did not ask if he was okay, knowing he would have told if something was not. Instead, I asked him what he felt. And he said. Well, I did not expect him to say what he did.

Lazarus said it felt like falling. It felt like free falling with no parachute or net. It felt like falling and falling and falling with the silent question of was anything going to catch you. The whistle of the wind as he fell silencing the question and the series of broken glass and broken screams. His hair flowed away from his face and for once, he felt like he was free from it. He said he saw his arms outstretched as he faced the void head on. He said he fell slowly. He said he felt like he was flying instead. I asked him how can he be flying and falling at the same time. He asked if I've ever rode on an eagle, in return. I told him no. He said neither have I. He stared at me. And I at him. It was a coming of age ritual for young dwarfs to fly on eagles. The age of flight was 13. Lazarus was 14 turning 15. 

My fatigued mind could not comprehend, I was far too tired to ponder on what that meant. And the rock at the bottom of stomach tripled in size.

**Subject 2: Izora May ** ** [2] **

Izora told me about her day before I started my spells. She told me about school mishaps and her cruel schoolmates. I had an inkling she did not think they were cruel, but she was younger than I and she still had a long way to go. 

I started my spells and her bright smile sank to a frown. Her eyes closed for a few minutes before she was blinking them open, fear crystal clear. She looked at me stricken and scared. She tilted her horns to me and I stopped the spell. She unfreezed and breathed out heavily. She heaved into the armchair and I felt wrong, guilty, like I had made a mistake.

I made my way to the kitchen to get some water, and although it did not happen to me, my hands would not stop shaking. I felt guilty, my magic did that to her. My magic caused that stricken face, that fear. But I could not dwell on it. She needed my help.

I walked back the living room with a glass of water. Izora took the glass, grateful. I asked her if it was alright for her to answer my questions. She nodded, her smile making its way to her lips, slowly. I asked her my one question: what did it feel like?

She frowned, slightly, and looked me in the eye before she whispered one word. Feelings.

Izora said it felt like feelings. It felt like standing in the middle of a river of feelings as the water rose and the waves grew bigger than the last. She said it left her damp and breathless as each wave grew larger than the last. The water grew and grew until it was past her shoulders and she started to panic. The waves hit her face directly and she kept choking on her emotions. The waves moved recklessly and her thin frame swayed with it. She said she already had her tail anchored to the rock bed but her emotions would always get the best of her. The water grew to her mouth and she felt herself swallowing her emotions down but she could not. They were too much. She felt too much and she was suffocating. Izora said that was when she remembered our safety thing. She tilted her head and the river fell. Suddenly, she was not suffocating anymore. And everything was back to the way that it was.

I escorted Izora back to her house, she happily skipped beside me. But before I left her, she turned to me, her face serious. I asked her what's wrong. She frowns and pulls up her pinky. Promise to never make me feel again, she said. I take her pinky into mine. Promise. The guilt washed over me the moment I lost sight of her.

  
  


**Subject 3: Reharso "Harry" Isico ** ** [3] **

I asked Harry weeks prior what location he saw fit for the experiment. He suggested Muroa Park. Although hesitant, I agreed. 

We met up at Muroa, once dawn started to fall. I arrived earlier, and sat under a Malate tree. I felt him before I saw him. Archaic magic radiated off of him setting firecrackers in my senses. It felt electric as always. Harry appeared from the shadows, pristine and elegant. He walked towards me, light on his feet almost like he was floating. He has a small smile on his face as he made his way to me.

The start of the ritual was simple. He knew what was to come, has had it happen to him before. He smiled at me, fangs and gums. I smiled at him back as I let my magic wash over him. He closed his eyes, but his smile stayed. He froze over and I continue my spell. He sighed, a minute later. Harry’s frame relaxed. His smile is soft and his aura is serene. He looked peaceful. 

The minutes went by before I knew it. The ritual was over. He opened his eyes and his smile grew bigger, if it was even possible. He scrunched his face, and I laughed. The silence was over and we went back to talking.

I asked him the question, asked him what happened, what did he feel.

Harry said it felt like sleep. Something he has never had properly in a long time. It felt like a soft breeze caressing his face as he slept in a hammock. The hammock swayed with the wind as the clouds move slowly around him. He said the sun shone on him and he did not burst into ashes. He said it felt like he was at a beach and it felt normal. He felt normal.

He told me all of this with a smile, and all I could do was smile at him in return. Even when my heart felt like lead and thousands of heartbreak.

  
  


**Subject 4: Esea Raulio ** ** [4] **

I met Esea at their bookshop. Hundreds of books on magic, fiction, non-fiction, lined the shelves and some were stacked on the floor. There was a fireplace near the counter. The shop radiated a homey energy, a place to land when the rain was too much and a cup of hot chocolate is too tempting. Esea led me upstairs. The stairs creaked under our footing, a mere man would think it was caused by time, I tell you it was not. 

We entered their apartment, and they made a beeline towards the stools. Picking two stools from the bar, they told me they had another appointment soon so we had to hurry. I glanced at the calendar on the wall and the bright red writing that said “full moon” answered whatever questions I had.

I started the ritual soon. Chants, and spells, until they had their eyes closed and they were frozen. Esea was not one to be charming like Harry, nor stoic like Lazarus. They were Esea, who looked at everything with soft eyes and soft smiles. 

This Esea, the one under mind magic, was an Esea I was not familiar with. Their forehead was set in a scrunch and they had a tight frown. They looked angry. Frustrated, mad, annoyed, irritated. Any other synonyms in the thesaurus could not describe the anger in Esea’s face during the ritual. I saw their hands closed into a fist and I realized, a little foolishly, their claws were out. Esea’s claws were embedded in their palm and they started to shake. Their lips started to move. I was not sure what they were doing but I leaned closer, cautious, the claws had me on my toes. But perhaps, I guessed, they were saying something. I directed my hearing to their lips and I heard their whispers.

Stop. 

I stopped the ritual, immediately. And they awakened. Their eyes blinked open, and I stared at them. They took deep breaths and the slow drowning feeling of guilt washed over me again. I could not look them in the eye, instead I turned my attention to their fists. Esea opened their hands slowly. I winced at the wound, it looked deep and the blood covered their whole palm. I felt bile climbing up my throat as the wound started to heal itself. I felt sick and guilty.

But I persevered. I cleared my throat, lightly. And asked them the question. What did it feel like.

Esea answered me bluntly. They said it felt like what they felt during the full moon. Pure anger and instinct. Esea said they felt like their chains of control were ice and they were being melted one by one. With each chain snapped, they said they lost control over their transformation. Esea gave a meaningful glance at their palms. It felt so much like losing, they said. They looked me in the eye and I saw fading red in their iris. They said it was scary. They did not want to hurt me but they were slowly, but surely, losing their hold. 

Esea escorted me out of the shop and I was grateful. I told them thank you. They said it was fine. I looked them in the eyes. They said they were fine, they swore. But I knew different. The red still lingered in their eyes. And so was the fear.

  
  


Footnote:

1 Lazarus was the eldest child of Moros’ old neighbors. Moros used to babysit him when the older couple was away for holiday. He was a happy and energetic kid but as the house grew louder, the young boy grew quieter and quieter. Moros explained that he stopped babysitting him once Lazarus turned 10, but Moros noted how the couple left for longer weekends more often when he did. [return to text]

2Izora was the child of Moros’ sister. He was the one who acted as a midwife during her birth. She was a firecracker 6 year old. Moros described as “happy go lucky” and “lovable and charming”. She was the apple of his eye. But Moros contrasted this with describing her smile as “ice” and her tears as “steel”. [return to text]

3Harry was a friend Moros met when he was still an apprentice. He was an old friend of his mentor. Harry was a constant during Moros’ journey to becoming a magician. He was a charming hundred something year old vampire, whose laugh left everyone in the room breathless and whose smile rivalled the sun.[return to text]

4Esea was a friend from even before Moros’ apprenticeship. They were turned during the time Moros was finishing his apprenticeship. They were a 23 year old werewolf, Esea owned a little bookshop at the corner of Baker St. and 22400. Moros described them as someone who had a kind smile and had even kinder words. They volunteered weekly at the orphanage on Baker St.[return to text]


End file.
